


stay beautiful and broken

by freakedelic



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [11]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crying, M/M, Noncontober 2020, Slight Underage (Tim is 17), Soft Rape TM, Temperature Play, Wax Play, bratty Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: “I’m not going to relax,” Tim says tightly, through grit teeth. “Just get this over with.” Ra’s doesn’t seem to comprehend that he’s raping him, that Tim does not in fact enjoy that.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917016
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	stay beautiful and broken

**Author's Note:**

> Noncontober Day 11: Gentle noncon, whumptober day 11: struggling, crying, kinktober day 11: temperature play! title stolen from co-dependent by Sixx:A.M.

“Shhhhh,” Ra’s coos, far gentler than he has any right to be. His breath is too-hot against Tim’s ear, body moving torturously slowly. Sometimes Ra’s is a furious beast, pinning Tim down and taking him like the madman he is, but other times—worse times—he’s this. A doting _parent_ , almost, or how Tim imagines one might be. The hand strokes Tim’s neck. He can feel the rings that cut open his cheek last week when he was backhanded for talking back. “Relax, Beloved. This will feel good.”

Tim glares daggers up at the ceiling. Ra’s’s eyes are too much for him right now, a too-bright too-intense hypnotic green, swirling in a pool of madness. The madness he has no intention of letting infect him, even if Ra’s seems to think differently. But he can’t escape the cock that splits him in half, buried in his ass, moving in and out in a sickly slow and steady rhythm.

“I’m not going to _relax_ ,” he says tightly, through grit teeth. “Just get this over with.” Ra’s doesn’t seem to comprehend that he’s _raping_ him, that Tim does not in fact _enjoy_ that.

Ra’s laughs softly. Sex mellows him out. Tim would rather be backhanded again. “It would please me that you enjoy yourself.”

He keeps moving the whole time, in and out, slick with oily lubricant and too deep, too much. If it were a normal session this would be over.

This has been happening for so long. Ra’s promises that he will enjoy _this_ —not just the sex, but the dresses, the League, Ra’s himself. It was just words, at first, but now as Ra’s’s hand wraps around his cock and Tim makes a low whine despite himself, it feels more like a threat than anything Ra’s has said before. He tries to kick but Ra’s has him pinned down with inhuman strength.

Tim is just as weak and useless as he has always been against Ra’s. He chokes back a lump in his throat. “I don’t care.”

“Stay still,” Ra’s tuts and for once Tim detects that danger in his voice that means he should tread carefully. That would _usually_ mean he should tread carefully. But here and now, he doesn’t care. He just wants it to be over. Tim gets ready for another gesture of defiance, but Ra’s is doing something strange. He picks up one of the candles—left over from a dinner that would have been romantic, if he wasn’t a nonconsenting teenager.

The flame tilts in the dim room, to the side, and Tim can’t figure out what Ra’s is doing with the wick until he feels the first bit of burning wax on his stomach. He tries to thrash but it’s dragged down further, to his navel, Tim hissing with pain.

“Do you perhaps find pleasure in pain?” Ra’s muses. Tim squirms under him, trying to get away. The room darkens ever so slightly as the candle goes out. He sees Ra’s reach for another one.

“Ra’s—no—” He’s cut off by hot wax on his shaft, dripping down onto his thighs and the bed. Tim yells, tears of pain in his eyes as he tries unsuccessfully to get away.

“No? Hmm.” Ra’s puts the candle back, still flickering. “Then perhaps you should tell me what you _do_ enjoy.”

It feels like a chess game, at the moment when Tim realizes that he is trapped and checkmate is closing in. That he’s _lost_. He’s the king, being tipped over by Ra’s’s smug finger, because isn’t that the story of his life? Trapped but still alive. Still in a sick purgatory.

Tim doesn’t notice the tears until Ra’s is brushing them tenderly away with his thumb.


End file.
